I sit in an office. For 8 hours a day. Filing useless papers. Not only do I have no chance at losing weight unless I absolutely starve myself, I feel like absolute shit. I feel as if my ass is transforming into a pancake. And because this filing is so mindless, I find myself constantly thinking about food. Everyone here is fat. Except for my favorite employee. But even she's gained weight. She stopped smoking and eats breakfast every day. She's still the great person she used to be, she's just got "more to love". She's so tall, though, so she can pull it off. But the office even has a whole cupboard of cookies in the back. So glad I made the last Grocery Gateway order and got me some Rice Thins. They're pretty bad, but they're better than cookies.
That little rant aside, I'm doing o.k. Obviously not as well as I'd like to, but I know the beginning is always hardest. I used to knock back and forth between a binge and fast. Totally converging into the latter category has my body less confused, but more angry. But sometimes, I love the feeling of my stomach screaming at me. It's as if I'm one-up on my body. It's great. But I have a long way to go.
My ultimate goal is to reach under my low which is 110. From there, I have no idea where I'm headed. We'll see.
This Saturday I'm going to the beach with some friends. I'd be looking forward to it if one of my friends' birthday dinners wasn't tonight. Oh, and guess where it is? Pretty much the equivalent of Hell for any Ana/Mia. With the little Asian Sait Peters awaiting at the gates, the Mandarin breathes fat. Fuck my life. I'll probably have to go Mia tonight. As much as I like Ana better, Mia accompanies me in keeping with my friends without attention. I've never been a dependant, annoying "will you come to the bathroom with me?" type of girl. That shit pissed me off. Wipe your own ass and solve your own problems.
As you can tell, I'm in a pretty shitty mood. I forgot my lunch in the car, so I had to go eat with my mother who works a few buildings away from me. Holding hands with Mia in a hospital washroom is disgusting. Note to self: never forget lunch in car again.
But, on a lighter note, my boyfriend is coming home soon (yes, I can hold a steady relationship with AnaMia). That will be nice, as I've been extremely horny lately and sex is great for burning calories.
I really would work out more, but I'm trying to lose muscle. Everywhere I've turned, looking for a way to do this, all ways have pointed to disuse. So, I'm boycotting all arm/leg exercise and working solely on abs and hoping that my stomach will get angry enough that it eats my leg and arm muscle (just kidding - you can relax).
So now I just need motivation. So many AnaMias praise celebrity AnaMias, even worship them. I think it's pathetic. Celebrities are just people. Except they are obviously pulling the stunt for attention. Instead, I delve into the creative and artsy side of the AnaMias. Artists, models, muses and all alike starve for inspiration to create beauty and feel real emotion, not to be published in People Magazine, or whatever other trash people read, for being admitted into the latest rehab center. The publicity stunts are lame.
Wow, getting a lot of ranting out today.
Motivation motivation motivation. Those out there who are with me on this wonderous self-indulgence people call eating disorders, allow me to lend you some motivation.
Every post, I'll leave you a taste of beauty in several forms of art.
(click the pictures to englarge them, click the light text for links)
Listen to:
Lua by The Bright Eyes
Look at:
Alex Asher Daniel's paintings
Admire:
Anna Selezneva
Watch:
Cassie from Skins
You will love everything about her.
You will understand this:
No comments:
Post a Comment